Minerva McGonagall: Deputy Headmistress
by stargirl0123
Summary: Minerva McGonagall is growing up. A prophecy, magic, love, intrigue, and death are all intertwined in a complex web of secrets. And how does Minerva McGonagall fit into all of this? Collection of oneshots.
1. Prophecy

**Minerva McGonagall: Deputy Headmistress**

**Prophecy**

On an early Tuesday morning, St. Mungo's was relatively quiet. Relatively – a man with two snake heads ranted in the lobby, and the Spell Damage ward had emitted a large explosion a minute ago. Healers rushed to and fro, pristine, white coats pushed back by their air of preoccupation.

By far, the busiest ward lay off the ground floor. It was to this ward that the majority of Healers, sleeves rolled above the elbow, rushed to. One battered-looking Healer stepped out of the ward and leaned against the door frame. His glowing white coat had been spotted with blood, and his bared arms were coated with a great deal more. As he reentered the ward, the occupants of the lobby heard a chilling shriek issue from within.

A grandmotherly witch stepped into the lobby. She was distinguished by dark-rimmed glasses, curly brown hair tied into a waist-length braid, and a faded blue, crocheted shawl tucked about her shoulders. She glanced around mistrustingly – _never have been fond of hospitals_. The witch readjusted her shawl and stepped into the line before the 'Welcome Witch' desk. She noted that the line was considerably shorter than it had been during her last visit.

When she reached the front of the line, she asked for the ward and room number of the woman she had come here to find. The impatient witch jerked her thumb towards the busy ward and muttered, "Room seven."

"Thank you," the elderly witch replied, tugging the edges of her shawl into line once more. She knew this was the ward she would like least – this couldn't possibly be sanitary. She had undergone this procedure herself, many years ago, but she had undergone it in her own home, whose cleanliness she had confidence in.

The witch found room number seven without difficulty. All was quiet as she entered. Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, illuminating the other two occupants of the hospital room. One was a tall man. His light brown hair was untinged by gray age, and light, unlined eyes revealed that he was rather young – he looked to be about twenty-eight or so years of age. He possessed an air of strength tempered by intelligence, gentleness, and reason.

One of his large hands rested on the shoulder of the room's other occupant. A slight woman, also young – looking, sat up in the bed. Her dark hair was streaked with sweat, and her serene face almost hid the exhaustion the elderly witch could see in her eyes. In her arms lay a twisted bundle of blankets. Both the man and the woman turned to look at the door as they heard the elderly witch enter.

"Cassandra," the man said. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"Well, Alphard, you know very well that this is not a surprise," Cassandra Trelawney replied. The young woman glanced up at her husband, puzzlement evident in her eyes. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"Cassandra – what are you doing here? I mean – my mother hasn't even come yet," the young woman said.

"Congratulations, Melandra," the elderly witch replied. "Is it a boy or a girl?" She was clearly evading the question.

"A girl. Seriously, Cassandra –"

"And her name is?"

"Minerva. Really, Cassandra – answer the question."

"I thought so. All the signs are right. Even the prophecy that she would be prophesied about is soon to come true."

Melandra turned and looked up to Alphard. "You knew that our daughter was going to be prophesied about, and you… you said nothing?! I like to know these things, Alphard!" He quieted her and smoothed a lock of hair back behind her ear.

"Yes, Cassandra. Where is it?" he asked. Cassandra removed a clear glass orb from her bag. It sparkled faintly. A tag dangling by a piece of thread from the orb read, in spidery writing:

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Cassandra Trelawney_

Alphard stretched his hand out for the ball, and Cassandra handed it to him. "It's a copy, so you can smash it," Cassandra said matter-of-factly. Melandra's eyes followed the orb as Alphard weighed it in his hand, tossed it up and caught it, and finally, released it to break on the linoleum floor of the hospital room.

"… _She will be the hope of the Wizarding world, a scholar and a teacher. Her inspiration_

_will lead us to defeat the Dark One… She must prevail…"_

Cassandra's miniature, smoky figure died away. Alphard looked shocked for a moment, then sat down heavily in the chair next to his wife's bed. Melandra looked surprisingly calm; her expecting eyes were focused on Cassandra.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well… guard her carefully," Cassandra said, weighing her words carefully.

"Are you sure it – are you sure this refers to _our_ daughter?" Alphard asked hoarsely. Cassandra nodded.

"The Dark One – surely you don't mean –" Melandra said breathlessly.

"Grindelwald," croaked Alphard.

"We have reason to believe that this doesn't refer to Grindelwald," Cassandra said. "For one, she won't be old enough…"

"That's why I'm worried," Alphard interrupted.

"I'm sorry, but it's not all bad. We will win…. You just had the right to know," Cassandra said. "_She_ has the right to know."

"How could we not tell her?" Melandra wondered out loud.

"Because I know you'll want to be good parents. She's a lucky girl. Congratulations," Cassandra said. As she stood up, wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, and exited the room, the small bundle still resting in Melandra's arms let out a small cry.

Because this is a new story, I really appreciate any and all the feedback I get. Even if you just want to give your opinions on the story, please please please please please leave a review! Thanks!


	2. A Chldhood of an Unusual Sort

**A Childhood of an Unusual Sort**

Minerva was taken home and treated from birth as the doted-upon daughter of a Wizarding family. Those Muggle families who lived around the McGonagalls delighted in the slight, cheery girl with shining black hair that befriended their children. But there was something elusive about Minerva, they would say. Something that made this polite little girl seem older than her years. Behind the McGonagalls' backs, it was widely debated whether this strange quality was the result of Minerva's almost unnatural adherence to the rules set for her, the arguably unhealthy amount of time she spent with books, or something else altogether. Whatever this trait was, it in no way affected Minerva's reputation as the darling of the neighborhood.

In the magical world, the McGonagall household was a gathering place of those who might challenge Minerva's ready mind. As she lived up to her name, books provided her with a key to knowledge, which she was in good possession of by the age of seven and able to use intelligently in conversation by ten. She discovered reading at four and entered school with a background of all the books within her grasp. Not only was she learned, but she was also the model of a perfect child, having been firmly influenced by her parents' good morals, whose guidance she had never dreamed of testing.

In many ways, Minerva appeared to be the perfect child, beautiful, happy, healthy, intelligent, well-mannered, and amiable. But in one way, she could not be satisfied. Though not a demanding child in any way, books could not completely satiate her. Her parents agreed that a friend of her own age was absolutely necessary, though a Muggle one simply would not do. The McGonagalls did not agree with Grindelwald's anti-Muggle philosophy, but the knowledge that once Minerva reached the age of eleven no Muggle would be able to understand her of be her peer stuck with them and their daughter. Minerva, whose foot was already firmly planted in the magical world, was clearly in need of a magical peer.

This need drove Alphard and Melandra McGonagall to buy a cottage on the outskirts of a small, young, all-Wizarding village called Hogsmeade in the shadow of Hogwarts castle.

It became immediately apparent that this was the correct place for Minerva. The village was small and contained few children, but enough for Minerva to develop a healthier social life without being burdened by too many or too misunderstanding children. Here, she developed a close friendship with Catherine Rose, another young witch of the same age who had been born in the village. Catherine was, in every way, perfect for Minerva. She was on the same page as Minerva in her studies, but at the same time, her presence allowed Minerva to laugh. They became the closest of friends.

Most children, including those in Hogsmeade, had imperfect lives made worse by school. Minerva had a perfect life in which her love of school was the foundation of her success. Inspired by the presence of Hogwarts and gifted as she was, she soon surpassed the other students, even Catherine. Her parents' library could only contain her interest for a few years, after which she had read all the volumes it had to offer. The village library held her interest for an even less amount of time. Minerva longed for the days when she would have access to Hogwarts' vast library.

Hogsmeade, as close as it was to the school, was frequented by many students and teachers, who offered Minerva a glimpse of life within the castle and what it had to offer. Minerva was particularly interested in the classes of one professor. Professor Dippet taught Transfiguration at Hogwarts, and the logic and complexity of the subject enthralled Minerva. By the winter of 1936, Professor Dippet regularly told her, on his visits to the village, that he looked forward to seeing her next year.

As April came to a close, Minerva began to regularly come home from school and ask her mother if there had been any owls. The answer never changed, and so Minerva would gather her books and walk to Catherine's cottage or wait for Catherine to arrive. When together, they created exaggerated tales as to why the letter had not yet come, never once actually believing their own stories.

Spring faded to summer, and Catherine and Minerva's activities changed little, though Catherine and Minerva grew ever more anxious. By July, Minerva stopped asking of her mother whether there had been any owls, and so it came as a surprise to her when, one day in mid-July, her mother placed a letter folded in yellowed parchment in front of her.

The letter was addressed in austere black ink to Miss M. McGonagall, 289 Millers Way, Hogsmeade, Scotland. Her hand shaking, Minerva turned the envelope around, broke the well-known Hogwarts seal, and drew a sheet of parchment from within. She scanned the letter briefly, taking in nothing but "Dear Miss McGonagall, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" and Professor Dippet's signature at the bottom. She glanced at the second sheet of paper, which contained a list of supplies and the necessary uniform. She took a bit more time on the book list, which included _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1),_ _The Magical History of Europe, Magical Theory, Basic Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, A Beginner's Guide to Potion Making, Creatures of the Magical World, _and _A History of the Dark Arts_. Professor Dippet had also inserted a notice that, since her family lived in Hogsmeade, there would be no need to take the train from King's Cross, which she should meet at 7 o'clock at the station on September 1st. Minerva smiled at her mother, gathered her letter, and ran for Catherine's cottage.


	3. Internal Conflict

**Internal Conflict**

Minerva and Catherine stood on the platform of the Hogsmeade station, shivering slightly in the chill September dusk. A cold wind made the leaves of the trees whisper and stirred the hems of their skirts.

They heard the train long before they saw it, and their apprehension grew as the signs that the train was approaching increased. After shying away from the larger students, they joined a large huddle of other First Years. When a rough-looking man called for them to follow, he led them down a steep, twisting path. The students clung to one another for support until the path flattened out and the sight of twenty-some boats greeted them. Catherine and Minerva were followed into their boat by a thin girl with long, blonde hair and another girl with curly, mousy brown hair left loose to hang to the middle of her back.

Minerva was startled when the boats glided from the shore unprompted. The rippled trails left by the boats were the only sign they left as they silently passed. Catherine slid closer to Minerva, as if it was Minerva's turn to be the brave one. She knew no more than Catherine; she had never discussed this with Professor Dippet or her parents.

One by one, the boats slipped through an arch covered by heavy, hanging ivy that was damp to the touch when pushed aside by their hands. Each boat glided to a pebbly, narrow shore, paused to let its passengers disembark, and slid silently away from the shore, into the dark recesses of the cavern.

Once the shore was covered by students, their whispers echoing off of the rough, torch-lit walls, the man who had led them to the boats raised his lantern as if counting, then turned and pulled the heavy metal door at the back of the cavern open, revealing a staircase cut into stone. At the top, he led them into a small waiting chamber and left them.

Panic set into a few students. They wondered if they would somehow be weeded out, the chosen few led further into the castle and the rejected sent home in disgrace. Just as one large-mouthed boy was proposing that they escape the selection by climbing through the window and dropping to the water below, the doors opened. Some students leapt back in surprise or fear; Minerva couldn't tell which. But she let go of the fear she had subconsciously been harboring when she saw it was Professor Dippet who stood at the door. Many looked mistrustingly at the balding man before them, but Minerva waved, and the Professor waved back. Catherine, who was on terms with the Professor through Minerva, smiled shyly.

"Students," the Professor's voice rose above the whispers and plotting, and the use of the word 'students' assured some that they would be accepted, "please follow me." The Professor led them through a magnificent Entrance Hall, complete with long marble staircase, and into an even more magnificent Great Hall. Four long tables, each holding older students already, ended at what was presumably the staff table. Minerva noted the empty seat in the center where the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, would sit. After she had taken her fill of the people in the room, she looked up at the ceiling, which she believed to be shrouded in darkness until she saw the moon and realized that it was the starless night sky she saw and remembered what Professor Dippet had told her about it – it wasn't really open to the sky but showed it.

Professor Dippet led them up to stand in a line before the staff table. Several of Minerva's new classmates fidgeted nervously, but Minerva herself was composed, on the outside, at least. Inside her, though, raged one large conflict, all hinging on her Sorting. Her parents had had a row about it last week – her father had hinted that she would be in Ravenclaw, like him, which her mother had taken offense at, being in Gryffindor. They had argued back and forth for a few minutes until her mother had hissed something like, "Prophecy," under her breath, and her father had instantly conceded. But Minerva had no idea what that meant.

When she refocused on the Great Hall, she became aware that Professor Dippet had placed a frayed, battered hat on a stool before them and had begun to call the names of the soon to be First Years. "Adams, Edward… Brighton, Jean…" Professor Dippet was reading off of a list of names as the hat shouted the name of the house each student now belonged to, which Minerva knew about thanks to her parents.

Events got tense when the Professor reached the Es. Finally, "Elderidge, Catherine," was called. Minerva clenched an unclenched her hands in her skirt as the hat sat on Catherine's head for a seemingly interminable amount of time. As Minerva released, smoothed, and re-gathered her skirt in her hands, the hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" The knot in Minerva's stomach lessened a bit more. She was decided. She wanted to be in Gryffindor. But would the hat let her? She didn't know how that worked.

"… McGonagall, Minerva…" Minerva stepped forward, taking deep, calming breaths as she sat on the stool and placed the hat on her head. The world went dark as the hat blocked out the light of the Great Hall.

"Interesting…" a voice inside the hat commented, "very interesting. Your mind, young lady, is a very conflicted place. You want to please your father, to be in Ravenclaw, and to have your intelligence be known. But you also want to make your mother happy, to be with your friend, to be brave like you've never been so far. In other words, to be in Gryffindor. There is the prophecy," Minerva's brain tucked that into the corner of her mind, "which implies that you are braver than you think. But I will not solve your inner conflict for you – you must do that yourself. So, I ask you, what do you want?" Minerva's inner conflict surged up again. It raged. She felt helpless. But no, it wouldn't be like that. She wouldn't let it. She would decide her own future. As she opened her mouth to whisper her answer, the hat spoke. "You have just proved yourself worthy of your choice by deciding it for yourself. Your determination places you where you want to be. GRYFFINDOR!"

Minerva raised the hat off of her head to see Professor Dippet smiling and applauding. She smiled and placed the hat on the stool as "Nelson, George," was called up. She slid into a seat at the long table next to Catherine. As she took deep breaths to calm herself, realizing that she was safe and where she wanted to be, they watched as "Nelson, George" became a Hufflepuff. Minerva noticed that the two girls who had crossed the lake with them still stood before the staff table. But as "Prewett, Evelyne" was called, the girl with curly brunette hair stepped forward and placed the hat on her head. The hat took little time deliberating, and soon Evelyne slid into a seat across from Catherine. About a minute later, the blond girl, "Taylor, Marie," joined them. As they smiled at one another in introduction, Headmaster Dippet stood up. "I am glad to see another year of students," clearly, there could be no doubt about their belonging here now, "and I hope you will all apply yourselves here. You will blossom and grow here, and some of you, I know, will be truly great." Minerva blushed as she felt the Headmaster's eyes on her. She didn't know how true it would be.


End file.
